


what is left over

by whiry



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - High School, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Fluff, Growing Up, Light Angst, M/M, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25022899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiry/pseuds/whiry
Summary: after the unforgettable summer they experienced when they were kids, richie and eddie come to find that there is a noticeable difference in their lives and slowly learn how to navigate itor, five times richie and eddie experienced the five love languages over the years and the one time they experienced something a little more
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak & The Losers Club, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, The Losers Club & Richie Tozier
Comments: 14
Kudos: 85





	1. I. Affirmation (Age 14)

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this over six months ago and kept debating on posting it, but i've finally decided screw it, so here it is
> 
> based on the five love languages, which i no longer have the tweet that i used as a reference, but it was basically a quick breakdown of each love language, which you can google all the same
> 
> fic title comes from "captain corelli's mandolin" by louis de bernieres, and the full quote is "love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away"

“Look, I’m not saying that I’m going to fail this test, but if I were to pass, it’d be a true miracle of God Herself,” Bev groans, shoving her textbook toward the middle of the table, where it bumps against Ben’s. Ben looks up and frowns.

“Bev, you’ll be fine,” he tries to reassure her. She shakes her head, proceeding to drop her forehead against the table. To her left, Richie grins.

“Bevvie, if you’re so worried about passing, why don’t you just make a cheat sheet? Or blow the teacher, that’s my go-to.” Ben gives Richie a _Look_ and Bev huffs. Richie extends his arms out. “No, seriously, just, like, lean across his desk and be like, “Oh, Mr. Hamilton, I’m scared I’m going to fail this test. Isn’t there _anything_ I can do to raise my _grade_?” And make sure your cleavage is showing too, especially when you’re on your knees and his di—"

Eddie, who’s sitting beside Ben, suddenly looks up and scowls at Richie.

“Beep-beep, Richie! Don’t be crass,” he scolds, cutting Richie off.

Bev’s smiling though, and she says, “What cleavage?” Ben’s face is red and he’s returned to his books by now, pointedly ignoring everyone and avoiding eye contact.

Richie grins brightly at Bev, patting her thigh sympathetically, before facing forward to look at Eddie.

“That’s the only way I know how to be, Kaspbrak.” Then he laughs. “ _Crass_ -brak.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, and Stan, from Eddie’s right, makes a noise of disgust.

“That’s not even funny,” he says. Richie shrugs a shoulder.

“It was a little funny.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Eddie cuts in. And then Richie starts in on him and they began to bicker and Bill and Mike, who’ve just come back from the vending machine, are exchanging glances and ignoring the pair, who’ve now started raising their voices.

“You’re absolutely disgusting, you know that?” Eddie is saying. Richie makes a face.

“Dude, that’s pretty much the exact opposite of what your mom said about me last night when I—”

“Stop it! Beep-fucking-beep, dickwad!”

“Both of you, sh-shut up!” Bill scolds as he takes his seat by Richie. “We’re in a library!”

They’re already getting enough looks as is, and Mike has to awkwardly smile and wave at the librarian to signal that everything’s just fine between them all so she doesn’t come over and make a greater scene by kicking them out.

“I hope you two get kicked out,” Stan mutters, turning a page in that old weathered bird book he’s been carrying around since the very beginning of the Losers’ Club, and probably a bit before that too.

“Not help-helping, Stan,” Bill grumbles, but Stan looks unapologetic, merely raising his eyebrows in response, eyes never leaving his book.

“Okay, no, but seriously, can someone please find me a new brain?” Bev asks, finally pulling her head up to look at the boys. “Eddie? You’re smart.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Not as smart as Ben or Richie.”

Richie’s head snaps toward Eddie, a big grin on his face. “Did you just give me a compliment?”

“Oh, I wish I could take it back,” Eddie replies, sour look on his face. Richie shakes his head.

“Uh-uh, no way! No take-backs! You said I’m smart, that I’m a genius, that I’m the most intelligent person _alive_ —!”

“Not as smart as Ben,” Mike chirps from his seat at the head of the table, munching on a bag of chips. Richie gives him the finger.

“Et tu, Brute?” Richie asks, middle finger still extended. Mike shrugs, smiling softly. Bill lowers Richie’s hand for him.

“You can’t read Shakespeare once and then pretend you know what you’re talking about,” Eddie says bitchily. Richie turns to face him.

“Excuse you, I’ve read Shakespeare a thousand times. ‘Villain, I have done thy mother!’”

“You—!”

“Enough,” Bill demands, cutting Eddie off before he can get started. Eddie seethes, glaring at Richie, who gives him a shit-eating grin in response.

“Okay, Ben, seriously, can _you_ help me study?” Bev pleads, turning to look at Ben since everyone else is ignoring her or getting off track. Ben looks at her for a second before nodding.

“Yeah, sure, of course, Bev.”

_Totally whipped_ , Richie thinks, but decides not to say it and embarrass Ben. He’s nice like that.

Bev thanks Ben and they all settle down for a bit, turning back to their homework or books and working in relative silence.

“Did you guys get your scores back for Haener’s essay?” Stan asks after a while. The Losers make grumbling noises of confirmation. They all have the same English teacher, which is a wildly nice coincidence, even though they don’t all have the class at the same time.

“Yeah, I did pr-pretty well,” Bill says, but it’s not a brag, he’s just genuinely telling them how he did. Mike and Ben nod along.

“Me too.”

“Yeah, same.”

“I could’ve done better,” Eddie huffs. Richie smiles at his anger.

“I’m sure you did the best you could,” he says, without really thinking about it. The others all look at him, Eddie included, with weird expressions on their faces.

“Uh, thanks, Rich,” Eddie says after a moment. Richie just nods and hopes his cheeks aren’t flushed; he didn’t really mean to blurt that out.

“Uh, yeah, I probably could’ve too,” Bev chips in, throwing a wary look at Richie. “You know, if I had read the book.”

“God, the book was an absolute nightmare,” Stan is saying, and the moment passes like it never even happened in the first place.

Later when they’re packing up, Richie taking twice as long as everybody else as usual, Eddie pauses by his side, waving the others on when they all make attempts to stop and wait with them. Richie notices this, and hopes his heart isn’t actually beating as loud as he thinks it is.

“I do think you’re smart, Richie,” Eddie says. Richie stops putting his stuff away to look over at Eddie. “You’re absolute shit when it comes to controlling yourself, but you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met… Even if you are a total asshole.”

Richie stares at Eddie for a moment, trying desperately to hide his joy at the words, before breaking into a grin and putting on a show.

“Aww, is Eddie Bear getting all sentimental?” He teases, throwing an arm around Eddie and reaching down to pinch his cheeks. “You’re so cute! Cute, cute, cute!”

Eddie slaps his hand away and shoves him off. “Fuck you, dickwad! I was trying to be nice!”

“Aww, wittle Eddie Bear! Come bawck here and take my wove!”

“Don’t touch me, jackass!”

They end up getting kicked out, but it doesn’t really matter, especially not when Eddie’s laughing and playfully shoving at Richie, telling him, perhaps a little fondly, that he’s actually a total idiot.


	2. II. Acts of Service (Age 15)

It’s the middle of August and they’re all lounging about the Denbroughs’ backyard, sipping lemonade and soaking up the sun. School is starting in three weeks and it’ll be high school—like real high school, because even though they started physically going to the high school building when they were in 7th grade, this will be actual 9th grade _high school_ —which none of them are properly prepared for. Eddie thinks he might be, but, then again, it’s _high school_ and he’s heard enough horror stories from his classmates about what their older siblings went through.

“Look! I think that’s a yellow-billed cuckoo!” Stan says suddenly, sitting up in his beach chair, spilling some of his lemonade as he does and pointing up at the trees. “They’re mainly found in the Southern U.S.; I wonder what one’s doing all the way up here!”

Stan’s interest in birds and birdwatching has become a tired subject for most of the Losers (see Eddie and Richie), but they all adore how excited he gets over seeing new birds or finding ones he likes, so they let it slide and only tease him minimally.

“That’s cool,” Bill adds, shading his eyes in order to follow Stan’s gaze. Sure enough, there’s a little bird in one of the branches with a yellow bill and weird spotted tailfeathers. The others all gaze up, too, making various noises of interest.

“Speaking of old birds, how’s your mom doing, Eduardo?” Richie asks out of nowhere. Eddie glares over at him, but he’s just grinning, laying prone on the deck by the pool, wearing those dumb neon pink swimming trunks and a graphic tee and an open Hawaiian shirt over the top, looking just like he always does, and yet, somehow, a little different too. Eddie can’t place in what way, though. “Seemed pretty weak when I left her last night.”

Someone chokes a laugh on their lemonade and someone else—Beverly, Eddie recognizes—snickers. Eddie narrows his eyes.

“Surely no weaker than how I left your sister,” Eddie shoots back. A couple more laughs, and Richie grins back at him. Richie doesn’t have a sister, and, obviously, everyone knows this, but using the “your sister” thing instead of the “your mom” thing works better for Eddie, because he knows Maggie Tozier and loves her like she’s a second mom—maybe, possibly, even loves her more than his own mom—and would never say anything ill about her. Richie knows this too, and Eddie’s pretty sure he’s pleased by it, because Maggie Tozier’s just the best.

“Nice boy,” Richie says toward the rest of the Losers, but maintains eye contact with Eddie, “but he’s got more nerve than a bum tooth.” It’s his Foghorn Leghorn impression, a direct quote Eddie’s pretty sure, and the one of the only impressions that always gets a crack out of Eddie. Today’s no exception.

Eddie has to look away to hide his quiet snicker.

“Guys,” Bev says after the laughter has faded away, “what the hell are we going to do today? It’s already almost noon and we’ve done nothing but lounge around in Bill’s backyard and complain about the heat.”

“And make lemonade,” Ben adds helpfully from his spot under the shaded porch.

“We could go to the Barrens,” Mike suggests, and they all know he means the Clubhouse specifically. Their Clubhouse has gotten a ton of use ever since Ben built it; they go down there whenever they can and just hang out, far away from the problems of their daily lives, from memories and feelings they don’t want to remember. Sometimes, it’s just a couple of them going at a time, whenever they can’t get everyone together, but they mostly wait until everyone is present to go. It’s more fun that way.

“We went yesterday,” Bev points out.

“And the day buh-before,” Bill adds.

“What about the quarry?” Stan proposes. Richie shakes his head.

“We’ve been swimming all day, man, there’s no difference between Bill’s pool water and the quarry water. They’ll both give you crabs.”

Bill glares at Richie, but deigns it unnecessary to respond, because everyone knows Richie’s just being a dumbass as usual.

“Well, I have to go to my Nana’s at 2,” Eddie tells them, scuffing his shoe against the pool deck. The others make a sympathetic noise collectively; Eddie’s Nana, though quite harmless and forgiving, always makes him do the grossest and weirdest chores whenever he goes over to her house once a month. Be it brushing her cat, or cleaning the drains, or massaging her feet, she always has a new task for Eddie, one that’s sure to make him gag or contemplate his existence.

“Ugh, that’s rough,” Bev sympathizes, twirling a lighter in her hand. She occasionally does this, pulls lighters out of random places. Eddie doesn’t find it weird anymore.

“Yeah, and apparently I’m supposed to clean her garage today. And she’s a hoarder, so there’s no way I’ll be done before it gets dark out. And who knows what kind of crazy and gross shit she’s hiding. I won’t be able to do it all by myself.”

It’s silent for a moment—and Eddie gets it, because he’s not sure he would volunteer to help anyone clean out their Nana’s garage either—before someone speaks.

“I’ll help you,” Richie offers randomly. Eddie looks over at him; he’s still lying down, staring up at the clouds, one hand skimming the pool water and the other laying on his stomach, looking utterly nonchalant and relaxed, like he didn’t just offer to do the grossest and hardest thing he’ll probably have to do all year.

“What?” Eddie asks, because he _can’t_ have heard him correctly.

“Yeah, sure, what else have I got to do? Besides, if I go home Mom’ll just make me clean my room or something. I’d rather clean somebody else’s mess.”

It doesn’t make sense in the slightest, but apparently that’s all Richie’s going to offer on the subject. Eddie glances over at Bev, who shakes her head, and then Bill, who shrugs his shoulders.

“Uh, okay,” he agrees after a minute. Richie just nods, still not looking at him. Then Mike starts talking about how cool it’s going to be to go to high school parties and stuff and the conversation moves on.

Richie does go over to his Nana’s and helps him clean the garage out, which kind of surprises Eddie, but also not really. They finish it in 5 hours, which is way sooner than Eddie ever would’ve done alone, and it probably would’ve been sooner still if someone other than Richie had come over to help—because Richie literally spends 90% of the time picking up each item and making a joke about it or, more notably and when it comes to the boxes of old clothes, trying them on and parading around—but Eddie appreciates the help nonetheless and appreciates the particular company too.

Sometimes, and only sometimes, Richie’s not the worst person to spend time with.


	3. III. Receiving Gifts (Age 16)

Richie and Eddie have this thing that they don’t talk about. It comes up very rarely, and only really kickstarted after that one summer they don’t really talk about anymore either. But there’s a _thing_ that’s unnamed—because Richie’s too afraid to give it a name and Eddie… Well, Eddie’s probably scared too—and it lingers over them and most things they do. Like when they touch or when Richie teases Eddie or when Eddie yells at Richie or when they look at each other for a little bit longer than friends should. And it’s fine, because neither of them acknowledge it and Richie’s pretty sure all their friends know and don’t really care so long as Richie and Eddie are happy and they kind of are, so it’s fine.

But there are times when Richie wonders if Eddie wants to do something about it. Just little things he does or says that make Richie pause and think, _Wait, did that actually just happen?_

And Richie still doesn’t know what this thing _is_ , and what the feelings that accompany it are, and he thinks that Eddie probably doesn’t either, but they don’t talk about it at all, so, yeah, it’s fine.

Richie’s been zoning out thinking about this and staring at Eddie for the past few minutes during movie night, which is now warranting him some stares. He snaps out of it when he notices everyone’s eyes on him. Eddie looks confused, though his cheeks are a little red.

“Uh, sorry, what?” Richie asks dumbly. Bev, Mike, and Ben snicker, and Stan rolls his eyes.

“We asked if you had pop-popcorn,” Bill explains patiently. Eddie’s still looking at him like he’s an alien.

“Oh, yeah, no. Mi casa es su casa, et cetera, et cetera. Make as much popcorn as you’d like,” he replies, hoping that no one can see how red his cheeks are.

“Oh-kay,” Mike says, dragging out the syllables. He nods his head toward the kitchen. “Anyone wanna help?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ben agrees, getting up and following Mike. He throws one last look at Eddie, though. “Don’t forget, Eddie, the snacks you brought!”

That seems to shake Eddie out of his reverie and he nods, dazedly, and stands up.

“Right, snacks, yeah.” He goes into the kitchen without another word.

Bev whistles lowly, and Richie glances over at her.

“Real smooth, Tozier,” she says. “Real smooth.”

He kicks at her, but she’s over on the chair and both Bill and Stan are in between her and Richie, so it’s more like a kick to the air above the boys’ heads. She smirks at him.

“Shut the fuck up, Marsh. I wasn’t—”

But he has no explanation because he kind of _was_. Stan suddenly laughs.

“You really are hopeless,” he mutters, shaking his head. Bill elbows him, but Stan doesn’t seem to give a shit.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Richie hisses.

“I’ll explain when you’re older,” Stan replies, smiling softly at him, which really confuses Richie, and he’s opening his mouth to ask about it but then Eddie’s walking back into the room and the conversation just drops.

“Here,” Eddie says, holding out Richie’s favorite kind of licorice. “I got these for you.”

Richie stares up at him. There’s a blush still on Eddie’s cheeks and he looks slightly embarrassed. Richie takes the candy, their fingers brushing.

“Thanks,” he says. Eddie nods once and goes to reclaim his seat next to Stan.

They don’t talk about it, but it sure makes Richie’s stomach twist in knots.


	4. IV. Physical Touch (Age 17)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is angsty, i apologize

Eddie is used to Richie by now. They’ve been friends for so long that he’s constantly aware of Richie’s presence and antics. Half the shit he does doesn’t even faze Eddie anymore; he’s expecting all of it. Richie makes a joke about his mom, Richie does one of his Voices to break the tension, Richie pokes and prods and teases Eddie until he gets a reaction out of him, usually causing Eddie to start yelling at Richie and Richie to grin and sit back and watch it all happen, looking smug and pleased with himself.

And it’s annoying, yeah, but it’s just Richie, so Eddie hardly notices any of it anymore. Richie doesn’t mean any of it, anyway, never means half the shit that comes out of his mouth, especially when he’s pinching Eddie’s cheeks and calling him cute, or slinging an arm around him, or pulling him into a tight squeezing hug, or, on very few occasions, slapping his ass. So Eddie ignores it until he can’t anymore.

It’s been a rough day, and he’s home alone—this a rare occasion in itself—and sitting in his bed, just crying softly. He hadn’t offered the Losers any explanations when they asked at school, hadn’t let Richie drive him home like he always does, just walked the whole way by himself, trying to quiet his mind.

Sometimes he has days like this, where his mind can’t stop running and he feels like everyone’s look at him, like everyone can see inside him, see all the gross and dark and cancerous parts that he just can’t cut out. He feels ugly and dumb and wrong and contagious, like he’ll infect the people around him like some kind of virus, like he’ll ruin everything, like he needs to be scrubbed clean and sterilized so he can start over.

He doesn’t know what triggers it, or when it’ll happen, but he’ll just wake up and know it’s going to be a bad day. And, thankfully, it doesn’t happen too often, but pretty much since they were 13, since _It_ happened, he has some days where he just feels… Insecure, he thinks is the best word for it. Maybe afraid.

Maybe he’s just afraid.

He cries a little harder, now memories of _that summer_ resurfacing, and his arm aches with a phantom pain, and sometimes, in the right light, Eddie swears he can still see Greta’s slur on him, and the bright red ‘V’ he used to cover up the ‘S.’ Sometimes, it feels like a brand, sometimes like the ‘V’ was never there at all, that there was only an ‘S’, that all he’ll ever be is a loser.

“Knock, knock,” a soft voice says from his doorway. Eddie looks up, quickly trying to cover up his tears. It’s not his mom—she’s not soft, anyway, she never was—but instead Richie, standing there looking a little awkward with his hands shoved into his pockets. He looks like those grunge artists that he always listens to, ripped jeans and long somewhat curly hair, glasses the only thing giving him away as a total dork and half-baked comedian and Eddie’s ever-present pain-in-the-ass best friend.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, a little unkindly. He hates people seeing him cry; it makes him feel even more weak.

But it doesn’t faze Richie, nothing ever really does, or at least not outwardly. “You seemed like you needed some company today.”

Eddie’s not sure he does. He’s not sure he could stand to be around another person right now, because he feels so bare, like he’s laying himself out unwittingly and he doesn’t know how to pick up the pieces right now or put himself back together again. He’ll get it in time, and he’ll be fine tomorrow, probably, but right now he feels utterly exposed, and he doesn’t want anyone to witness that.

“Well, I don’t,” he bites out, wiping again at his cheeks. Richie crosses the room and sits beside him, giving him only a little bit of space to be alone, not quite touching him.

“Yeah, you do,” Richie says, like he knows Eddie better than Eddie knows himself. He makes a face and opens his mouth to start yelling, but Richie keeps going. “You do because you’re scared and you think you’re alone and you need to know you’re not. We all have days like that, Eds; it’s okay to be scared. Sometimes I get nightmares so bad that I wake my parents up by screaming, but I feel like I can’t tell anyone that.”

“So why are you telling _me_?” Eddie asks in a small voice. He didn’t know that about Richie, didn’t know he still thought about _It_. Maybe the others do too, maybe they still remember. And while some of the memories are starting to fade or get fuzzy, Eddie thinks he’ll never be able to get that clown’s face out of his head.

“Because you and I are the same. We think we’re supposed to be invincible, like that shit won’t get to us, but it will and it does. And we’re not alone. _You’re_ not alone. Because you have Bev and Bill and Stan and Mike and Ben and me… You have me. And you’re not alone.”

Eddie starts crying again, practically bursts out sobbing, and Richie just scoots closer and lines their sides up and pulls him into a tight hug, pressing his lips to Eddie’s hairline.

And he holds onto Eddie for a long time, long after he’s stopped crying, long after he probably should’ve let go.

He just keeps holding on. And Eddie’s grateful.


	5. V. Quality Time (Age 18)

The Losers are always together. Ever since they became the Losers’ Club, they’ve spent nearly every waking minute at one another’s side. No one is ever alone, not really, and even when they are, they have plans to meet someone else within the next hour. It’s natural that they all hang out—losers flock together, and all that—and it really shouldn’t be surprising that Richie and Eddie are _always_ together, more so than any of the other Losers.

They’re always together, yes, but they’re often never alone.

Because there’s still that weird thing between them that’s unspoken, and after a few months ago, when Richie comforted Eddie when he was crying, something’s kind of shifted between them, and Richie’s not sure how he feels about it or how to even describe it. So now he makes sure that they’re really never alone, that at least one to two people is with them at all times. It’s better this way, safer and whatnot.

But, naturally, there comes a time when this plan fails. It’s just after Eddie’s 18th birthday, and the start of their senior year, when Eddie turns to him, while Bill and Stan are talking about birds or something, and says, “Isn’t it weird how we always hang out, but we never really hang out?”

Richie raises an eyebrow. He knows precisely what Eddie means, but they’re not supposed to talk about it, that’s the silent rule. So he says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” like an idiot.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “We’re always hanging out, but it’s never just us. It’s almost like…” He trails off without finishing his sentence.

“Almost like what?” Richie’s kind of scared of the answer, because now he’s kind of genuinely lost as to what Eddie’s talking about, but his curiosity is insatiable.

“Almost like you don’t want to actually spend time with _me_.” Eddie makes a face, seemingly at his own words. “Forget it, I sound like a girl, I don’t even—”

“That’s not at all the case,” Richie interrupts, sitting up. They’re in the hammock at the Clubhouse, even though they don’t really fit in it anymore, what with Richie’s Amazonian legs and Eddie’s slight frame, and they’re practically laying on top of each other. “I want to spend time with you.”

It’s almost painful how true that statement is.

“Then let’s hang out, just you and me.”

Richie stares at Eddie. He wants that, very much, but he’s so scared. But it’s also Eddie, who’s one of his closest friends, who means the utter world to him.

“We can go to the arcade,” he offers. Eddie smiles softly.

“Or the movies,” he counters.

“Or both,” Richie suggests.

“Both is good,” Eddie concludes.

“How about Saturday? It’ll be like a—” But Richie can’t bring himself to complete the joke, to say the word, to make it real.

Eddie just smiles that soft smile again, one which he never really brings out.

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees. Richie stares at him for a moment longer before nodding.

“Okay.”

Richie doesn’t think of it as a date, because he thinks that if he starts down that path, they’ll be no pulling himself out. But he thinks of it as two friends hanging out, which is exactly what it is, so it makes it a little less scary.

They go to the Aladdin on Saturday, just the two of them, turning down plans with the others so they can just spend time together alone. Bev teases Richie and Stan is a little bitchy about the whole thing, but Richie knows that’s because Stan was looking forward to spending some time with Richie—they’d made plans to hang out in the Barrens, which meant Stan would’ve been birdwatching and showing Richie while he smoked, or they would’ve stolen beers and sat at the top of the quarry and talked about life, or they would’ve swam—but Richie promises him that they’ll reschedule, so it’s not that big of a deal and Stan gets over it, telling him it’s good that he and Eddie are spending some alone time together, like those words don’t affect Richie in a way he can’t explain.

Maggie, as he’s getting ready, stands in his doorway and smiles at him. “Going somewhere?” She asks softly, wearing one of her bright orange sundresses although it’s already September, but it’s really not cold enough to break out sleeves and pantlegs yet anyway.

Richie tugs his jean jacket on. “Eds and I are going to the Aladdin.”

“Just you and Eddie?” Maggie asks, a strange lilt to her voice. Richie furrows his brows.

“Why are you saying it like that?”

“I’m not saying anything like anything, I’m just asking questions here,” she swears, holding her hands up in mock surrender.

“Just me and Eddie are going to the Aladdin to catch a movie and play some games,” Richie states monotonically. “Is that alright with you?”

“That’s cool,” Maggie says, bobbing her head. “That’s _hip_.”

“Eugh, Jesus, Ma!” Richie groans, brushing past her into the hallway and heading down the stairs.

“What? Is that not what you say nowadays?!” She calls after him, laughing brightly. “I’m down with the times!”

“Oh my God! Stop!”

She laughs louder. Richie finds himself grinning at her antics nonetheless.

He picks Eddie up and they go to the Aladdin and it’s not a big deal. They see some lame movie that Richie wasn’t even paying attention to and they head to the lobby and play _Street Fighter_ and they don’t talk about it. They laugh and they joke and they tease and argue, but they don’t talk about the thing between them, that’s growing almost like a balloon, that Richie’s sure is going to pop at any moment and then they’ll be left to pick up the pieces and try to move on.

But, despite all of that, he realizes how much he’s missed Eddie, and realizes that even though they’re never alone, and even though he loves their friends, he kind of wants them to be alone every once in a while.

He says as much to Eddie, who stares for a moment before smiling and rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re my best friend too. Now are you gonna actually play this time or should I just go back to one player?”

Richie grins brightly. “Oh, please! You’re the one who didn’t know how to combo the first time we played!”

“The first time, Richie! It was the first time! It’s called a learning experience, which I assume is something you’ve never heard about!”

“What are you even—”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you!”

But they’re both smiling and laughing and Richie feels a whole lot lighter now than he did before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't remember if it's called the aladdin or capitol theatre or something like that, and i think it differs between the book and the movies, so i call it the aladdin here, in case there was any confusion
> 
> and i have a headcanon that maggie and went are great parents to richie, and i really wanted to show that here, at least with maggie
> 
> there's also still the plus one after this, that'll be released tomorrow!


	6. VI. +1 (Age 18)

The Saturday hangout goes smoothly, and ends with Richie driving them back, blasting music and headbanging the whole way, making Eddie simultaneously fear for his life and laugh his ass off. He loves being with Richie like this, just the two of them being utter dumbasses but doing it _together_. That’s what makes it so fun, he thinks.

Two weeks go by with them hanging out more and more on their own until it’s a Wednesday night and they’re walking back from Bill’s—where everyone had gotten together after school to do homework and hang around and just be together—when Eddie notices that Richie’s wringing his hands, something he does sometimes when he’s really, really nervous.

“You good, man?” Eddie asks, stopping under a streetlight, which just so happens to be flickering, making the whole thing look slightly ominous.

Richie stops too, but keeps wringing his hands.

“Uh, no, actually, I’m not,” he admits, and he doesn’t even sound like himself right now. Eddie’s eyebrows knit together.

“Are you okay, Rich? What’s wrong?” Eddie leans forward to put a hand on Richie’s arm, but Richie pulls away slightly, which kind of hurts, but Eddie tries not to dwell on it.

“Jesus, Eds, I don’t even know how to say this, but it’s, like, eating away at me and I just have to spit it all out and I’m sorry if this is a lot, God, I don’t want to scare you away, but I kinda—I just—”

“Jesus, Richie, just tell me,” Eddie demands, not liking to see Richie under so much stress and anxiety.

“Fuck, I like you, Eddie,” he breathes out all at once. Then takes another deep breath and lets that out. “God, I _really_ like you. Like, in a way that I shouldn’t, probably. I have for… I don’t know, forever, I think. And it’s just—it—I can’t… I had to tell you. I’m sorry and I don’t want to ruin things, but I couldn’t keep it in anymore, I mean, it’s been years, man. I really don’t want to ruin our friendship. You’re my best friend, Eds, I can’t—I can’t lose you.”

Eddie’s frozen. He’s not even sure how to begin processing all of this. Richie likes him. Richie _likes_ him. Richie likes _him_? It doesn’t even compute in his head. How could Richie of all people like Eddie of all people? He doesn’t understand it one bit.

And then he thinks, _Wait a minute_ , because things are starting to click into place. Like all of the girls Richie has kissed and how Eddie would always get jealous whenever Richie talked about it, and, huh, maybe he wasn’t jealous of _Richie_ kissing those girls, maybe he was jealous of those girls kissing _Richie_. And he does find himself naturally drawn to Richie in a number of ways and it’s starting to take shape in his head…

But then again, he’s terrified. He thinks that maybe he’s liked Richie as long as Richie’s liked him, but he’s never been comfortable with that. And it’s probably because of Sonia, if he’s being honest with himself, and all her propaganda and the hate that she spews, but the idea of liking another boy makes him queasy, with fear and disgust and interest and joy.

So, it makes sense. But whether or not it’s something he can actually _do_ is a different story.

“Eds?” Richie is saying softly, looking more nervous than he did before. Eddie blinks up at him. “You were spaced out, dude.”

“Don’t call me that. You know I hate it,” Eddie says automatically, and then just makes a decision for himself.

He perches himself up on his tiptoes and kisses Richie square on the mouth.

Richie’s hands scramble to his waist as his own cup Richie’s face, and Richie tilts his head and suddenly the kissing is _much_ better than before. Eddie’s kissed a couple of girls before, but only ever pecks and none have ever been quite like this.

Eddie’s really not sure how long they kiss, but by the time he pulls back, the streetlight’s gone out completely and there’s only the moonlight and the neighboring streetlights illuminating them. They’re hidden by the darkness, but it’s not scary or unnerving, especially not when Richie’s right there with him.

“Whoa,” Richie breathes, and Eddie can feel it on his face. They’re still pretty close together, but now, somehow, they’re holding hands and staring at each other. “That was—”

“Yeah,” Eddie replies, because he gets it. He’s never really felt anything like that before either. He wonders if that’s just what it’s like to kiss Richie, or to have a proper good kiss, or to actually like the person you kiss, or if this is just what kisses between Eddie and Richie are always gonna be like. And, piggybacking off that, what if there’s more of them, more kisses, more of… _This_. That, Eddie thinks, wouldn’t be so bad.

“Did you—I mean, do you—”

Richie doesn’t finish his statement, but Eddie gets it all the same.

“I think you and I are more alike than you originally thought,” he says, remembering the day Richie held him as he cried, and further, further back. “I think I’ve liked you all this time too.”

“You mean, we could’ve been doing _that_ this whole time?” Richie asks, gesturing between them, still holding Eddie’s hand. Eddie bites back a grin.

“Honestly, probably not,” he admits. Richie’s eyebrows pull together, but Eddie just squeezes his hands in reassurance. “There’s still a lot—I don’t know that I’m—” Saying the word is scary, there’s no doubt about that. It’s almost like once he says it, he’ll never be able to take it back. But what if he doesn’t want to take it back?

“So you don’t—” Richie tries to pull away again.

“I do,” Eddie says hurriedly. “I’m just… Scared.”

He’s always scared. That’s just Eddie, a ball of nervous and emotional fear and anxiety that swirls and spins like a tiny twister. He never stops, never takes a second or rests, just keeps going and going and going and thinking and thinking and thinking. But that’s exhausting, he knows, and sometimes it’s fun to do things that make him scared.

(And, ironically, Richie’s always the one pushing him to do those things. He’s always been there for Eddie, holding his hand and telling him to “just do it already, Kaspbrak!” even when it was scary and Eddie was sure he was going to have an asthma attack—which he’s now sure are just panic attacks, but he still carries the aspirator around anyway. But Richie’s the one who makes him do the scary things, and he always has fun doing them and almost never regrets it, though there’s definitely been a few memorable times and close calls that he has regretted, for sure.)

“I am too,” Richie murmurs and one of his thumbs rubs at Eddie’s hand. “But it’s kind of fun that way, isn’t it?”

Eddie’s pretty sure that Richie’s not confident in his words right now, that he’s just making this up as he goes and praying for the best, but it kind of works, and Eddie can’t really blame him.

“Does this mean that we’re… Dating?” Eddie asks. Richie shrugs a shoulder.

“If you want to be, then, yeah, I’d call you my boyfriend.”

The word sends a weird tingly feeling all over Eddie, and he decides that he likes that a lot.

“Boyfriend,” he repeats, because he’s never really pictured himself having a boyfriend, but it’s a cool thought. “We’re boyfriends.”

Richie’s smile must rival the sun. “We’re boyfriends. You’re my boyfriend. I have a boyfriend. Eduardo “Eddie” Kaspbrak is my boyf—”

“Okay, enough,” Eddie cuts him off, but he’s smiling too. Then another thought occurs to him. “Do we tell the others?”

Richie contemplates it for a moment before shrugging. “They won’t care, so it’s up to you if you want to tell them. I mean, I don’t really think they’d be surprised, though.”

They won’t care, Eddie knows that, too. They can bring it up to everyone else the next time they hang out, all causally and whatnot.

“What about our parents?” Eddie asks.

“I’m pretty sure my mom already thinks we’re dating,” Richie says with a wince that Eddie doesn’t understand. “And my dad’s probably in the same boat, honestly.”

“But my mom…” Eddie reminds. It goes without saying what Sonia’s reaction would be.

“We’ll keep it on the down low for a year and then you’ll be off to university and she won’t be able to say a thing,” Richie decides. Eddie smiles.

“A year? You think we’ll be together that long?” He teases. Richie smiles back.

“Yeah, I think I can find some way to keep you entertained.”

He pulls Eddie back in for a kiss. For once, Eddie doesn’t complain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the end! i hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> tumblr: provokiing.tumblr.com


End file.
